


The only thing

by Ailendolin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, De-Serumed Steve Rogers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Self-Sacrificing Steve Rogers, Self-Sacrificing Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-03-08 03:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18886648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailendolin/pseuds/Ailendolin
Summary: Endgame Spoilers!“You stupid man,” Tony whispered fondly. “You wonderful, stupid man. Do you even realize what you’ve done?”Absentmindedly, he brushed away the tear tracks on Steve’s face, revealing more unnaturally pale skin beneath.“The right thing,” Steve managed to say, leaning into Tony’s touch like a man starving for contact. “The only thing.”Steve is at Tony's side at the final battle. It changes everything.





	1. The end

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Endgame Spoilers!
> 
> So, this is based on this little idea I had of "What if Steve and Tony had done the Snap together and Steve's serum had been powerful enough to feed the Stones so no one dies". I hope you like what I came up with. This story is probably going to be two or three chapters long. You can read it as Stony if you like or as Steve and Tony friendship. It's open to interpretation. 
> 
> Also, I'm not a native speaker and this is not beta'ed, so please excuse any mistakes you might find and don't hesitate to point them out so I can correct them. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned here. They are the property of Marvel / Disney.

**The only thing**

**Chapter 1: The end**

“And I … am … Iron Man.”

Tony had always hoped it wouldn’t end like this. He’d hoped it wouldn’t have to come down to self-sacrifice at all, that by some chance he’d be one of the lucky ones and survive everything the universe threw at him just long enough to die peacefully of old age on some distant day. But he couldn’t deny that there had always been this nagging suspicion that the statistical odds of that happening were not in his favor – and Tony was a scientist, not a believer. He knew the numbers and likelihoods, knew what they most likely meant for him, and even though he tried to bury that knowledge in the deepest and darkest parts of his mind where he didn’t like to look – and there were days, weeks, even years during which he lived in almost ignorant bliss – in the end the fear of meeting an untimely end never left. It stayed with him, lingered persistently and bid its time until its moment finally came and denial wasn’t an option any longer.

Oddly enough, now that he stared the bitter truth right in the face Tony didn’t feel afraid at all. He only felt sad.

Standing in front of Thanos amidst the ruins of a former dream Tony’s mind went back to the exact place and time he’d sealed his fate. He saw his home, so different from the tower he had built so long ago and yet so much more comfortable and meaningful. There he’d figured out the secrets of time travel, once again not knowing when to leave well enough alone. He remembered Pepper’s sad and resigned face with a hint of pride and so much love in her eyes when he said goodbye, and Morgan’s promise to always love him three-thousand.

And he remembered Steve’s old shield in the garage, hidden behind boxes and ignored for years but never truly forgotten.

Tony had made his choice then, and now that he knew which road it led him down – so very far from home and with no chance of ever returning – he was glad to find that despite it all he didn’t regret his decision to join the fight.

He regretted a lot of other things, though: not being able to be there for Morgan in the years to come; leaving Pepper behind and making her worst fears come true; the fact that they had to lose Natasha to even get to this point. But even so he just couldn’t regret helping the team and getting them all back together one last time, or seeing Peter’s bright eyes again and hearing him stumble over his words in his excitement, young and vibrant and so very much alive – or the way Steve smiled at him when they finally reconciled after so many wasted years.

Still, in his final moments Tony couldn’t help but wish that winning wouldn’t always have to come at such a cost. He knew they would win the battle the moment he snapped his fingers just as much as he knew they would still lose in the end. No one could give them back the last five years. Nothing could bring back all the people that were collateral damage of the Snap – those that sat in airplanes whose pilots had disappeared, those that died in car crashes or out-of-control house fires. The list of people who were killed as a result of the Snap was sheer endless, and Tony knew he would be one more casualty to add to it.

The last one, hopefully.

He also knew he wouldn’t get a second chance, the same as everyone else who was collateral damage rather than a victim wouldn’t. No one would be able to bring back him or Natasha or even Loki when it was all over – and he’d seen in Clint’s eyes how hard life without Natasha would be for him. He’d seen the way Thor carried himself nowadays, without pride and motivation, had seen how much he still missed his brother even after all this time, unable to let go.

Tony didn’t want that for Pepper and Morgan. And he didn’t want that for Steve who’d been walking on eggshells around him every time they saw each other during the last five years. He knew Steve would blame himself for what Tony was about to do and live with the guilt and regrets for the rest of his life, and Tony wished he could do something about all that. If only he’d had a little more time he could tell his daughter how much he loved her and that he would always be with her even if she couldn’t see him. He could show Pepper his feelings in one more extravagant gesture that would make her roll her eyes at him but hopefully laugh as well.

And as for Steve? Tony wished he could tell him that he was sorry, too, and that he had forgiven him for everything Steve had and hadn’t said and done over the years. He should have made an effort to actually say that out loud while he still had the chance instead of relying on getting the message across in the form of a freshly polished and painted shield and an offer of help.

He’d recorded video messages for Pepper, Morgan and Steve before he left home, of course, because Tony Stark always prepared for the worst and hoped for the best. But now that he was at the end of the line he wished he’d just taken the time to tell them all in person just how much they meant to him, how much they had helped shape him into the person he was today, for better and for worse, and how grateful he was to have had them in his life.

Now his time had run out and all Tony could do was hope his messages would be enough to make their grief a little more bearable after it was all over and the dust had settled, that they would be okay without him in time and learn to understand that this was the only way to win, their only chance at a better life. Not for everyone and maybe not for them, but for humanity in general.

Tony took a deep breath. His hand didn’t shake when he held it up and the Infinity Stones attached themselves to his gauntlet, making it glow like a beckoning star amid the glumness of the battlefield.

He was ready. Let the world know that Iron Man came back to save it one last time.

He snapped his fingers.

Something barreled hard into his side just as the sound of the snap echoed across the battlefield. Tony felt warm, sweaty skin pressing against his temple just as agonizing pain shot out from the Stones on his gauntlet and up through his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut against the anguish coursing through him, but not before catching a glimpse of two arms clad in familiar blue fabric wrapping themselves around his chest, holding on tight and anchoring him to this place.

 _Steve_ , he thought in shock and horror, because this was not how it was supposed to go. Steve was not supposed to be here and witness his death up close. Tony didn’t want to do this to him, didn’t want to do this to anyone. It should have been his burden to carry this out alone.

The agonizing pain in his arm stopped travelling up towards his shoulder and Tony’s shock turned to surprise. He felt Steve press his forehead even more desperately against his temple while his arms clutched Tony’s armor like a lifeline, searching for purchase on the smooth metal. It wasn’t until he heard Steve’s voice, small and frantic and so terribly desperate, in his head that Tony finally connected the dots and realized what was happening.

 _Not him_ , Steve pleaded, over and over again. _Not him. Please not him_.

He sounded broken in a way Tony had never heard him before. Steve’s voice was full of defeat and desperation as he tried to keep Tony in this world, and Tony’s heart ached for him.

 _It’s okay_ , he thought, not knowing if Steve could hear him. _You’ll be all right without me. You’ve been the last few years._

Steve’s grip tightened and images flashed through Tony’s mind of all the good times they had shared over the years. Little moments Tony would have once called insignificant were most prominent: eating breakfast together in comfortable silence, watching a movie Steve hadn’t seen yet, talking about the different types of music and art that developed since Steve had been stuck in the ice. He watched himself teaching Steve first how to use a phone, then a tablet; how he brought Steve up to date with all the major scientific breakthroughs over the years; how he handed Steve a box full of art supplies with the words, “If there’s anything else you need just say the word and I’ll order it.”

 _He gave me a home_ , Steve’s voice whispered as if asking someone – God? The Universe? Tony didn’t know – to understand. _He made me feel like I belonged here even when all I wanted was to go back. I never thanked him for that._

 _Oh Steve_ , Tony thought, and the fact that the pain in his arm was slowly receding to a dull ache didn’t seem important when Steve’s breath hitched suddenly.

 _I ruined everything_ , Steve continued miserably. _I ruined us because I lied, because I was a coward, and I didn’t make it right. I didn’t fix it because I was afraid, and I waited too long. I always wait too long and I miss my chances, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._

The pain in Tony’s arm faded to an annoying throbbing but his heart hurt more and more with every desperate thought Steve projected through the Stones. He’d never have thought that Steve regretted the loss of their friendship as much as the future with Peggy he’d been robbed of. Just this morning he’d have laughed in the face of anyone who’d told him he meant the world to Steve. It seemed ridiculous, yet here Steve was, full of regrets and longing for something he’d allowed to slip through his fingers and out of reach.

It put everything Tony had thought he’d known about Steve into a new perspective. Even more, it made him feel guilty for giving Steve the cold shoulder for so long and not reaching out to him, either.

 _I don’t want to live in a future that has no Tony Stark in it_ , Steve choked out. _He’s the best of us. We need him here. I need him, and I … I can’t lose another friend. Not again. Never again._

Images of Bucky flashed through Tony’s mind. A bridge, a train, a fall. Steve’s confrontations with Bucky in the new century, violent and painful, both physically and mentally. He felt Steve’s longing for his best friend as if it were his own, the desperation to bring him back, to regain that one familiar part of his old life he still had left, no matter how warped and different Bucky was now.

Then, to Tony’s surprise, he watched himself plummeting from the sky over New York. He witnessed the horrible flashback to Bucky’s fall Steve had had in that moment, and he felt the same helplessness and fear Steve had experienced before it gave way to sharp relief when Tony breathed and finally opened his eyes.

He watched a thousand little moments where Steve sought him out after that defining battle against the Chitauri, looking for company and companionship, for a port in the storm that was his homesickness and loneliness. Before now Tony had never realized just how awful Steve had felt back then and it made him wish he could go back to 2012 once more and tell his younger self to take better care of Steve, to put more effort into making him feel welcome.

The memories continued to flicker in and out of existence and Tony watched how they gradually became friends against all odds. He felt how much that connection meant to Steve despite the other friends he’d managed to find over time. He also felt how torn Steve had been when Bucky came between them and for the first time since the mess with the Accords Tony truly appreciated the tough situation Steve had been put in back then. Years of regrets, longing and hoping for a phone call that never came followed. Then unimaginable grief because Bucky was gone and Tony was, too.

Steve had lost everything again.  

_Take me instead. Please. I can’t do this again. I just can’t._

Thanos and his army began to fade, and with every dust particle blown away Tony became more and more aware of his surroundings. He felt Steve’s hot breath on the side of his face and heard the small sounds his tears made in the deafening silence of the battlefield when they dropped down onto the Iron Man armor. His arm still hurt but it was nothing compared to what he’d felt before Steve had tackled him and touched him.

Before Steve had _touched_ him.

Tony’s eyes flew open. _Oh god_ , he thought, slowly turning his head so that he wouldn’t break the connection but be able to look at Steve. He didn’t have to be a genius to know what the pained expression on Steve’s face meant, or the way he gritted his teeth and almost bit his lip bloody to keep from screaming. The pain from the Stones Tony had felt hadn’t simply gone away – it had gone over to Steve – brave, beautiful, bloody Steve who’s voice was beginning to fade from Tony’s mind.

 _He’s everything_ , Tony heard him think even as his stomach plummeted because god, what had Steve done? _He doesn’t deserve this. He has a family. I don’t. No one needs me here, not like that. I don’t even belong in this place and time. I never did. So please, let me do this for him. Let me give my life so one of us can be happy._

 _No_ , Tony thought numbly. How could Steve even think he could possibly happy with Steve being gone?

The glow faded from the gauntlet and absentmindedly Tony gave the command to disengage it. It fell to the ground with a dull metallic sound just as Thanos vanished once and for all into nothingness. This was it: the moment of their victory, the moment they fought so long and so hard for. Somehow, it felt neither real nor triumphant even though Tony, despite everything, was here to witness it. That alone should have had him cheering. Instead he thought of Steve, stupid, brave, heroic Steve and his need to made amends and atone for something that didn’t even matter anymore – who just wanted Tony to have his happy ending and was willing to give his life for that.

Tears pricked Tony’s eyes as it truly hit him what Steve had just done for him – the lengths he’d been willing to go to. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat before he leaned back a little and took his first, real look at Steve. He didn’t like what he saw. Steve looked like he’d been through literal hell and judging from the pain Tony had felt in his arm, albeit briefly before it was dulled to a throbbing ache, this assessment wasn’t too far off the mark. Steve’s face was deathly pale beneath the bruises and dirt. His eyes were clenched shut, a delta of tearstreaks spreading out from them down swollen and cut cheeks. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps that made Tony wince in sympathy. Instead of standing firm and steady like Tony was used to from Steve he was swaying on the spot and trembling as if he were stuck in the fiercest blizzard imaginable.

 _Or in a huge amount of pain_ , Tony realized with a jolt, and that horrible thought made him reach out with his good arm and grip Steve’s shoulders in support. “Steve?” he repeated softly.

With some reluctance Steve opened his eyes, either because even that small motion hurt too much or because he was afraid of what he would see. His breathing hitched when his eyes finally focused on Tony, and the painful beginnings of a smile slightly pulled up one side of his mouth, revealing a hint of bloody teeth and splitting his lip anew.

“Tony?” Steve breathed, sounding impossibly young and hopeful. “Please tell me you’re all right, that it worked.”

Tony wanted to cry, not only because Steve’s eyes weren’t supposed to be dulled with so much pain and exhaustion no single person should be able to bear, super-soldier or not, but also because Steve was still putting Tony and his well-being first even now when he was on the brink of collapse. Instead Tony smiled against his tears and nodded. “You did it,” he said, bringing up his unhurt hand to cup the side of Steve’s face.

Steve’s small smile widened for a moment with pure joy that made his eyes light up and crinkle at the corners before he slumped against Tony in relief and buried his head in Tony’s neck. “We did it together,” he mumbled, breaking Tony’s heart in four short words, before his legs finally gave out.

Tony did his best to lower them both carefully to the ground. He held onto Steve even as Steve’s hands slipped from his armor and his eyes fluttered shut again.

“You stupid man,” Tony whispered fondly. “You wonderful, stupid man. Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

Absentmindedly, he brushed away the tear tracks on Steve’s face, revealing more unnaturally pale skin beneath.

“The right thing,” Steve managed to say, leaning into Tony’s touch like a man starving for contact. “The only thing.”

Tony swallowed hard. “Thank you,” he said quietly even though the words felt inadequate. He hoped Steve could hear everything Tony couldn’t put into words right now.

Judging by the peaceful look on Steve’s face, he did. “Always,” he whispered before his body went limp in Tony’s arms.

Tony cradled him closer, sheltering him from the world. Steve’s fight for ragged breath after ragged breath filled his ears as he wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Next, we'll find out what actually happened to Steve and how both he and Tony will deal with everything that happened. If all goes well, I'll update next Sunday. Thanks for reading!


	2. The aftermath

**Chapter 2: The aftermath**

Tony didn’t remember a lot about those first few hours after the battle. He recalled how Dr. Strange had opened a portal directly to Wakanda’s medical wing followed by a flurry of motion and anxious faces and someone prying Steve from his tired arms. Everything that came after that was a blur of pain and prodding and annoying needle pricks followed by blessed numbness.

Much to his surprise his diagnosis wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. Bruce along with the best doctors of Wakanda seemed very sure that his arm could be saved – with patience and time. While patience wasn’t necessarily Tony’s strong suit, time was something he had in abundance now that the threat was gone and there was no need to fight anymore, and he intended to make the most of it.

Steve’s diagnosis, on the other hand, was shattering.

“I don’t know what happened when you snapped your fingers, Tony,” Bruce said. He had a solemn expression on his face as he stood at the end of Tony’s hospital bed with a tablet in his hand. He looked tired. “I don’t have the faintest idea how either of you is even alive, to be honest. But Steve … well, all I can say is he’s not Captain America anymore.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Tony asked, briefly glancing over at Steve’s still form in the bed next to him. He’d demanded they be put in the same room and threatened to discharge himself and fly right back to New York when the doctors told him a hundred different and absolutely unimportant reasons of why that wasn’t a good idea. Tony didn’t care. They hadn’t heard Steve’s thoughts in their heads. They didn’t know how desperate he had been to save Tony, weren’t aware of how much he would probably freak out if he woke up alone, thinking he’d failed and lost another person he cared about.

Tony couldn’t do that to him, not after everything that had happened, so he’d fought tooth and nail to ensure he’d be at Steve’s side when he woke up, even shamelessly resorting to begging at one point. In the end his efforts had proven successful and he’d gotten his way much to the doctors’ annoyance.

That had been two days ago, and so far Steve had shown no signs of waking.

Across from Tony, Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It means that his super strength is gone, Tony. His healing factor as well.”

Tony frowned. “So what does that mean? If he’s de-serumed shouldn’t he be back to his old skinny self?”

“He’s not de-serumed, as you call it. The serum is still there in his blood,” Bruce explained patiently. “It’s just not working anymore. Please don’t ask me why. My best guess is that the Stones did something to him when you snapped your fingers, and switched off the serum’s powers. We’re trying to figure out how to switch it back on.”

Judging by the expression on Bruce’s face he wasn’t too hopeful about that. Tony didn’t blame him. He’d felt the power of the Stones first-hand and he’d known the moment the pain in his arm became bearable and he saw the agony etched onto Steve’s face as he held onto him with all that he had that something horrible was happening. He just wasn’t sure if _switched off_ was the right expression for it. It had felt more like _draining_ to Tony before Steve touched him, as if the Stones were sucking his life force right out of him. That changed with Steve’s touch. There was less the feeling of being drained and more the sensation of energy coursing through him, making him tingle from the inside out without harming him – as if he were merely a conduit.

The more he thought about it the surer Tony became that the serum’s powers had not been switched off but drained, most likely to the point of no return. They’d always speculated that Steve’s enhancement had its limits. He wasn’t immortal, after all. He was aging like the rest of them, albeit more slowly, and he could be hurt. The serum might have advanced his healing factor but it wasn’t a miracle machine as the battle against Thanos had proven. Steve had been brought to his knees even before he channeled the power of the Stones. All he’d had left the Stones had burned right through. It had been just enough to leave Steve alive – injured and powerless.

Tony wouldn’t have stood a chance on his own against the Stones.

Steve hadn’t expected to, either. Tony knew from his thoughts that he’d been prepared to die that day, even embraced it as the only possible outcome. He’d tackled Tony with the firm belief that only one of them could make it out alive, and he’d done all that he could think of, foolish and desperate as it had been, to ensure Tony would be the one left standing at the end of the day.

Because Tony had a family, and Steve had no one.

While that wasn’t technically true (there were Bucky and Sam and so many more who considered Steve one of their closest friends) Tony had felt how much Steve believed he wouldn’t be missed, not as much as Tony, not in the same way. He’d felt Steve’s loneliness – something Steve had carried with him since he woke up from the ice and seemed unable to shake even after years – and Tony couldn’t believe how oblivious he had been not to realize how much Steve had struggled with his new life and reality since day one.

In a way, being Captain America had saved Steve Rogers. The uniform and shield had given him a purpose, something to do in a time where everything was new and strange and just familiar enough to make it impossible to forget how it used to be. And now it seemed almost certain that Steve had lost the one thing that kept him going for all these years. Once more the rug had been pulled from under his feet, leaving him with no choice but to adapt to yet another new status quo.

Only this time, Tony swore, he would have help.

“All I know is,” Bruce continued, “that everything that made him Captain America is gone. He’s just … Steve, now.”

Bruce’s words hit a nerve. They reminded Tony uncomfortably of something he himself had hurled at Steve a long time ago. A lifetime ago.

_Everything special about you came out of a bottle_.

He shuddered and turned his head towards Steve. Physically, he’d look almost the same if it weren’t for his face which was several shades too pale and still riddled with cuts and bruises even now, two days after the battle. He looked exhausted and worn in a way Tony had rarely seen him and never for prolonged periods of time, and his breath rattled in his throat like it must have back when he was young and still had asthma.

Tony had seen pictures of Steve before the serum, and despite his muscular physique everything about him now reminded Tony of that skinny boy with the heart of gold and unwavering sense of justice.

He turned back towards Bruce. “You’re wrong,” he said. He pointed a shaking finger at Steve. “The serum didn’t make him Captain America. He was already a hero in every way that counts long before he put on the uniform.”

Bruce held up both his hands in defense. “You know what I mean, Tony. All I’m saying is he won’t be picking up the shield anytime soon. Maybe never again.”

“I know,” Tony sighed and slumped against his pillow. He stared at Steve’s bruised face, troubled even in sleep, and made a decision. “I’ll tell him once he wakes up.”

“You sure?” Bruce asked, a hint of concern in his voice. “I don’t mind doing it.”

Tony shook his head. “He did this for me, Bruce. The least I can do is tell him the bad news myself.”

“You know, this isn’t your fault, Tony,” Bruce said, patting his ankle comfortingly.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed.

A lot of other things were, though. It had been his choice not to spend time with Steve after the battle of New York or ask him if he needed help with anything. It had been his choice to go after Steve’s best friend with the intention of killing him for something he’d had no control over, blinded by loss and anger and grief. And it had been his choice not to call Steve after he’d reached out to Tony, not to make amends, even after they lost half the world. Instead he’d continued to push him away.

Tony vowed things would be different now – not because he felt guilty or owed Steve his life, but because he wanted them to change. He knew he and Steve could be great together, had the potential for so much if they built their future on the foundation of a solid friendship like they should have had from the beginning. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. This could be a fresh start for them, a second chance, and this time Tony was ready let Steve into his life and reach out his hand in friendship. All Steve had to do was take it.

Tony fervently hoped he would.  

* * *

When Steve finally woke up, three days after the battle, it was slow and gradually. The first two times he came around he was too groggy to realize where he was, slipping back into unconsciousness almost immediately. The third time was different. Tony could see it in the way Steve’s fingers gripped the bedsheets with a fraction of the strength he used to have. He heard it in the deep but unsteady breath Steve took as if to steel himself for whatever horrible thing he expected to see once he opened his eyes.

Tony was at his side in an instant, burned arm with brand-new skin grafts tucked safely against his chest. “Hey, Steve. Welcome back.”

For a moment all Steve did was blink at him in confusion. Then his face crumbled and tears welled in his eyes.

Tony’s smile slipped off his face.

“It’s all right,” he whispered a little helplessly, hurriedly reaching for Steve’s hand. He gave the cold fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I’m fine and you’ll be, too. We did it, Steve, remember? Together. We did it together.”

“Together?” Steve choked out. He looked scared, as if he thought this wasn’t real. “We’re alive?”

Gently, Tony brushed his thumb across the back of Steve’s hand, hoping the small sensation was enough to ground Steve in the presence. “Yes, very much so,” he said. “We won, Steve. We’re in Wakanda right now, getting the best medical treatment possible.”

Steve’s eyes fell to Tony’s arm and what little color he’d regained drained from his face. “You’re hurt.”

Tony did a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s just a flesh wound. I’ve had worse.”

A warm feeling filled him when, despite everything, Steve’s lips curled upwards in the ghost of a smile. “I know that reference,” he said hoarsely.

“You better,” Tony grinned. “ _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ is a masterpiece.”

Steve’s eyes and smile were soft and free of pain thanks to the painkillers the doctors had him on, and god, Tony had missed this easy camaraderie between them. If he’d just been brave enough to call Steve all those years ago before everything went to shit maybe they would have made amends in time and regained their friendship before Thanos came to Earth. Maybe they would have stood a chance against him then. Together.

But Tony hadn’t been brave. He’d held onto his resentment, his hurt, and because of that he’d pushed Steve away, putting all the blame on him. Steve hadn’t been completely blameless when it came to their stupid war, of course, but now in hindsight Tony could be honest enough with himself and admit Steve hadn’t been the only one who’d made questionable decisions back then. He wished it hadn’t taken him years and both of them almost dying to realize that.

His thoughts must show on his face because Steve gave his hand a weak squeeze and said, “Are you in pain? Maybe you should rest.”

Tony knew no amount of rest could make the pain in his heart go away but he humored Steve anyway – mostly because Steve looked exhausted and ready to fall asleep again. He stood up and, a little reluctantly, let go of Steve’s hand. “You’re probably right. I’ll be just over there if you need anything,” he said, pointing at his bed.

By the time Tony had settled under the covers Steve had fallen back asleep. Tony smiled at the sight, but it was tinged with sadness. It hadn’t slipped past him how Steve, even injured and barely conscious, was still putting Tony’s well-being first. It made Tony’s heart ache to see Steve trying so hard to be there for him even after years and years of being rejected, grateful for every tiny civil moment between them that didn’t end in another fight.

“Things will be better from now on,” Tony promised even though Steve couldn’t hear him. “You’ll see.”

He meant every hopeful word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to everyone who left kudos or comments on the first chapter! I really appreciate your feedback! I know chapter 2 is a little shorter but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Chapter 3 will hopefully by up next Sunday. Steve will finally wake up properly in that one ;)


	3. The beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: there's some swearing in this chapter. And questionable medical knowledge (or lack of knowledge) on my part.

**Chapter 3: The beginning**

The next time Steve woke up he couldn’t remember the last conversation he’d had with Tony. Seeing him struggle to take everything in once more, to go from confusion to disbelief to relief in a matter of seconds only to end up frowning at Tony’s bandaged arm with worry written all over his face was as difficult to witness a second time as it had been when he first woke up. It felt like a déjà vu. And it kept happening.

The doctors told Tony that temporary memory loss was perfectly normal. Steve had been through a lot, they would say with kind smiles Tony immediately wanted to wipe off their faces. It would take Steve a while to be able to form new memories after the strain the Stones put on his mind, they told him, so Tony had no other choice but to patiently break the news of their victory against Thanos to Steve again and again. It was exhausting.

By the time the pattern changed Tony was so used to having the same conversation with Steve each time he woke up that it completely blindsided him when Steve responded differently. Instead of reacting with disbelief when Tony told him that they’d won Steve bit his lip and whispered, “Not really.”

Tony’s heart missed a beat. That was new. There was an awareness in Steve’s eyes that hadn’t been there the other times he’d woken up. He looked tired but more alert than Tony had seen him since the battle, days ago. A lifetime ago. Anguish was written all over Steve’s face when he added in a small defeated voice, “We didn’t save everyone.”

“Steve,” Tony began and stopped, not knowing how to go on because Steve was only telling the truth – and the truth, in this case, was something Tony had avoided as best as he could for the last few days. Images of Natasha, Vision, even Loki, flashed through his mind and he closed his eyes, letting the grief wash over him for a moment. It left a sour taste of guilt and regret in his mouth.

“Did anyone else …?” Steve asked hesitantly and Tony snapped his eyes back open.

“No,” he hurried to say. “No, Steve. It was over when I used the Stones. You … you were the last one to get hurt.”

Relieved, Steve allowed his body to relax. Then his gaze fell on Tony’s bandaged arm and he tensed up again. This was familiar. Tony had been through this with Steve often enough to know what was coming, so before Steve could even open his mouth he said, “It’s not as bad as it looks. Honestly.” When Steve didn’t react he added with a hint of humor, “I can give you my chart if you don’t believe me.”

Steve tore his gaze away from Tony’s injured arm so fast it almost startled Tony. His eyes were wide and almost frightful. For a second he looked hurt but then he visibly reigned in his emotions before he said in voice that was too quiet and too controlled, “That … that won’t be necessary.”

_Oh_ , Tony thought as he realized how his words must have sounded to Steve. _Shit_. He hadn’t meant to imply that Steve wouldn’t trust his word. Of course Steve would. Tony had no doubt about that, none whatsoever, especially not after the last few days where Steve had willingly stepped aside and let Tony lead the mission. There had been no arguments, no fighting between them because Steve had trusted Tony’s judgment – almost blindly, Tony had to admit. Almost foolishly.

Seeing the carefully concealed hurt on Steve’s face now Tony realized Steve’s reaction wasn’t just about trust. Steve was afraid of destroying what little civility was left between them by saying or doing the wrong thing at the wrong time.

And Tony knew exactly why he was afraid: Steve was terrified of losing him again. His thoughts on the battlefield had been quite clear on that. For some reason at one point in his life Steve had decided that Tony was one person on a very short list of people he couldn’t live without. Tony had no idea what he’d done to be that important to him – he certainly hadn’t made an effort to befriend Steve in the beginning of the Avengers Initiative or even later – but the way Steve was studying the blanket as if it were the most fascinating thing in the universe, hunched shoulders making him seem small, made it rather obvious that he mattered to Steve. A lot.

So much, in fact, that just one ill-chosen word from Tony had the power to destroy Steve. Tony swallowed hard. They weren’t on equal grounds here, not with Steve looking and acting like a kicked puppy, eager to please and scared to approach at the same time. They hadn’t been on equal grounds for years now, Tony realized, not since Siberia, not since Steve kept his distance and Tony didn’t call, and Tony didn’t know what to do with that information.

So he did what he did best: he avoided it and tried to steer the conversation into safer waters until he had time to think everything through. “How are you feeling?”

Steve shrugged. “All right.”

Tony almost smiled. That answer was so _Steve_. Steve was always _all right_ after a fight. It didn’t matter if his injuries were only minor and consisted of a few scrapes and bruises or were more serious, leaving him with a dislocated arm coupled with a deep gash in his stomach. Steve was always fine. They used to joke about that, Tony and the others after the medics had cleared Steve and he’d gone up to bed to rest. It hadn’t been so funny anymore the next morning when Steve didn’t come down for breakfast and Tony found him curled up on his bed, trying not to scream as his stomach knotted itself back together inch by painful inch. Tony had stayed with him the rest of day and through the night, offering what little comfort he could as he helplessly watched the serum do its work. Before that incident none of them had realized that a medical clearance for Steve didn’t mean he was okay – it simply meant there was nothing more that could be done.

“Don’t move too much,” the doctors would say. “The serum will take care of the rest.”

And the serum did. It always healed in record time. The only downside was that Steve experienced all the pain that came with recovery in record time, too. Since painkillers didn’t work on him all he could do was grit his teeth and ride out the storm for however long it raged.

Tony wondered if that day and night in Steve’s bedroom, when he listened to the quiet whimpers Steve couldn’t contain and wiped his forehead with a cool wet cloth to bring him some release from the pain, was the moment Steve began to see him as a friend. They formed a routine, after that. Whenever Steve was injured and said he was all right Tony would ask him, “Honestly-all-right or have-to-be-all-right?” and if it was the latter Tony would stay with him until the worst was over.

He asked Steve the same thing, now. When Steve looked up at him in surprise, eyes wide and so, so grateful, Tony didn’t have to ask whether or not Steve had anyone to help him with his injuries since Siberia. The answer was obviously no, most likely because Steve hadn’t allowed anyone close like that again. _Stubborn idiot_ , he thought.

“A little bit of both,” Steve finally admitted, looking away in shame. Tony remembered that, too. It had been incredibly difficult for Steve to put his guard down back then and ask for help. Or his shield, so to say. Ever since he became Captain America it had been drilled into him that he had to be strong, a symbol of hope and resilience. And even before that, when he was still that skinny boy from Brooklyn that suffered from asthma, he’d learned that standing tall and proud and facing your enemies head on was ten times better then cowering before them in fright.

Steve Rogers had never learned to be vulnerable in front of anyone – with the exception of Bucky, maybe, and Tony. What he _had_ learned was suffering in silence, just so he would keep up appearances and not disappoint anyone. It made Tony’s heart ache now just as much as it had years ago when he first realized it.

“Are you in any pain?” he asked quietly.

“My head hurts,” Steve said, still refusing to meet his eyes. “Every bone in my body feels bruised. Breathing is … difficult.”

That had to be the understatement of the year. Steve ribs were severely bruised, some even cracked, and as if that weren’t enough earlier this morning his test results had confirmed that the asthma from his childhood was back.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was shaking as he finally looked up from the blanket. “I … I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Tony sat up straighter. “What do you mean? Should I call the Doctors? I probably should. Wait –”

Steve placed his hand above Tony’s, effectively stopping him from pushing the call button. “Don’t. Please,” he asked.

Tony’s resolve crumbled like bricks to dust. “All right, just us then. But you need to tell me how I can help.”

“I don’t think you can,” Steve said. He tried to pull his hand away again but Tony tightened his hold. He felt the faintest of tremors ripple through Steve. “Everything is … numb. I know I’ve been hurt, I can feel the pain everywhere but it’s far away. A lot farther than normally. Like I’m on drugs.” His eyes met Tony’s and his voice was barely more than a whisper when he said, “The serum’s not working anymore, is it?”

There was no use in postponing this any longer, not when Steve had already figured it out on his own. Tony had sworn he would be the one to break the news to Steve and that’s exactly what he had to do now. He just wished there was any way to soften the blow.

“No, it’s not,” he said truthfully. Steve’s face closed off and became unreadable. “Bruce can probably explain it better than me – he and Shuri and a lot of doctors have been working on a solution for days now – but from what I have gathered the Stones drained the serum’s power instead of my life force when you touched me. Bruce would disagree, though. He thinks the serum’s just switched off and there’s a way to turn it on again but …”

“But you don’t believe it,” Steve finished the sentence for him. He swallowed visibly. “I think you’re right. It felt … it felt like an eternity until the Stones were done. I felt them pulling at me, tearing at me. That’s not how a switch works. Even I know that,” he added self-deprecatingly.

Tony shook his head. “No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Steve’s distraught eyes met his. “For what?” he asked. “This was my choice, Tony, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I don’t regret it.”

He sounded so confident and sure that Tony felt his eyes begin to burn. He lowered his head and focused on Steve’s hand instead. Pale skin, bruised and scabbing over at the knuckles. Blue veins forming an intricate pattern beneath the skin, unique and precious. Long, slender fingers – an artist’s hands, not a soldier’s – touching his own with a fraction of the strength they used to have.

“Thank you,” Tony whispered. It was the only thing he could possibly say.

“Always,” Steve replied, echoing their last conversation on the battlefield.

Tony looked up to find Steve smiling at him. It was faint and tinged with grief but it was a smile. He looked beautiful like that, even with the bruises and shadows beneath his eyes, and the weight of the world on his shoulders. Tony had missed that smile.

A cough wrecked Steve’s body, leaving him gasping for breath and holding onto Tony’s hand for dear life, and the moment was over.

“It’s okay, Steve, just try to breathe, all right?” Tony tried to reassure him, completely out of his depth. He really should call a doctor but that would mean letting go of Steve’s hand and Tony couldn’t do that even if he wanted to. “Slowly in and out. That’s it. It’ll be over in a minute. Just breathe.”

But it wasn’t over in a minute. Steve’s breaths came too fast and too shallow, stuttering and hitching painfully on every inhale. They weren’t getting better and when Steve’s panicked blue eyes, huge and wild, met his Tony had to make a decision. He disentangled his hand from Steve’s. The distressed sound Steve made went straight to Tony’s heart.

“I’m not leaving,” Tony tried to reassure him as he stood up and hurried around Steve’s bed. “Just getting your inhaler. Hold on.”

He rummaged through the drawer, silently cursing the doctors for not putting it somewhere where Steve could reach it easily. He would definitely have a word with them about this. But that would have to wait. Steve was his priority right now.

Tony let out a triumphant cry when his fingers finally grasped the unfamiliar object. He thrust it into Steve’s hand, trusting him to know what to do with it. Steve brought it to his lips and took a deep breath. The effect was almost immediate. His breathing calmed down and Steve’s whole posture relaxed. He sunk back into the pillows and closed his eyes.

_Crisis averted_ , Tony thought in relief.

“I’d forgotten how scary this could be,” Steve murmured, sounding absolutely exhausted.

Gently, Tony took the inhaler from him and placed it on the tray next to the bed where Steve could reach it before he sat back down again. Without thinking about it he reached for Steve’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Are you all right?”

Steve’s lips pulled up in a one-sided smile. “I’ll be fine. Just need to get used to this again, I guess.”

“I wish you wouldn’t have to,” Tony sighed.

“Tony,” Steve admonished gently, giving him a look that clearly said _We’ve been over this_.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. You should get some rest, though.”

Steve hesitated. “Will you …?” he began before he shook his head, suddenly angry at himself. “No, forget it. You should rest, too.”

“No, what did you want to say?” Tony asked.

To his surprise Steve pulled his hand away and wrapped it around his chest instead. “Don’t worry about it. I was just being stupid.”

Steve was literally and figuratively pulling away from him and Tony couldn’t have that, not now, not ever again, so he said, “You’re a lot of things, Steve Rogers, but stupid isn’t one of them. Stubborn, maybe. Yeah, I’d go with stubborn. You’re pretty good at that.”

“Pot calling kettle,” Steve mumbled.

Tony shrugged. “Guilty as charged. Now come on, just spit it out. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The look Steve gave him spoke volumes: _You could laugh at me. You could turn your back on me. You could walk away forever this time_.

Tony sighed. Softly, he said, “If there’s anything I can do to help you in any way … please, Steve. Tell me. I want to help. I really do.”

“Because I saved your life?” Steve asked dejectedly.

“Because I’d like us to be friends again,” Tony corrected him gently. “And friends help each other.”

Steve’s face crumbled. He took a deep, ragged breath and nodded. “Will you,” he began, his breath hitching on the last word. “Will you stay? Just for a bit?”

Tony’s heart broke into a million pieces at the hope in Steve’s voice, small and fragile like the first rays of sun after a long, hard winter. There was more to Steve’s question than the obvious request for company. He was asking if Tony would be gone tomorrow, if this was the last time they would see each other for years. He was asking if this was another goodbye.

Tony smiled reassuringly at Steve. “I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise. You can rest now.”

“Thank you,” Steve breathed. He closed his eyes in obvious relief and it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. The worry lines on his face almost disappeared as his body relaxed, making him look young and vulnerable in a way he rarely looked awake.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, Tony adjusted Steve’s blanket, making sure he wouldn’t be cold. He leaned back in his chair and smiled at Steve.

“Always,” he whispered softly, intent on keeping his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks again to everyone who left a comment or kudos on the last chapters! It's really lovely to see so many people liking this! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!
> 
> I feel like this would be a very good place to end this story. But I guess it depends on what you guys think. I struggled a lot with this chapter and kept rewriting it again and again over the last week, meaning I've got some stuff written I didn't end up using that I could work into another chapter or two (like Morgan meeting Steve and helping him heal like only a child can). So there's definitely potential for more. 
> 
> I guess what I'm trying to say is this: let me know if you'd like to see this story continued or if you'd prefer it to end here :) Thank you again for your support!


	4. Second chances

**Chapter 4: Second chances**

Tony kept his promise to Steve. He was right at his side the next time he woke up, and the time after that and the time after that. It became a routine for them, one which they didn’t acknowledge verbally. There was no need. The way Steve looked at him every time he startled out of sleep and opened his eyes told Tony more about how grateful he was to see Tony’s face than any words possibly could. It was enough for Tony to see Steve’s features soften in relief the moment their eyes met, just as it was enough for Steve to simply have Tony in the room with him, providing an anchor to reality and reminding him that they both survived.

Steve still slept a lot, though. On most days he would briefly wake up in the morning for some breakfast and sleep away the rest of the day only to be wide awake at night. Tony didn’t know if it was the loss of the serum that screwed with Steve’s sleeping habits or the pain medication he wasn’t used to but he didn’t mind talking the night away with Steve, getting to know him again, and better than before.

Their friends, however, were always disappointed to find Steve asleep when they came by. They couldn’t spare a lot of time for hospital visits, not when there was so much to be done after the defeat of Thanos and every pair of hands was needed in the physical and administrative clean-up, and Tony hated the way their faces fell when they opened the door and Steve slept on completely unaware of their presence.

“I swear he’s doing that on purpose,” Sam had muttered the last time he, Wanda and Bucky had visited.

“He’s not,” Wanda said before Tony could utter his protests in Steve’s defense. She looked worried and that in turn worried everyone else in the room. “He’s in pain, both in body and mind, and deeply exhausted. He needs to rest, and will for a while yet.”

Her eyes flickered to Tony and the look she gave him made it perfectly clear that she was aware of the role Tony had played in Steve’s pain, and his injuries. He held her gaze, stubborn as he was, and refused to back away from her quiet accusations. He knew Wanda was only trying to protect Steve and Tony didn’t blame her for that. How could he after everything and everyone she’d lost since they’d known each other and before. How could he after all the years he had ignored Steve and hurt him with every minute of silence that passed between them? But this was something only he and Steve could to fix – and Tony knew better than anyone that fixing things took time and effort, that making something better sometimes meant you had to start from scratch. It could hurt and leave you exhausted for weeks but in the end, most of the time, all the hardships were worth it. Especially when it came to people, Tony found.

Wanda needed to understand that she couldn’t shield Steve from Tony, not when she wanted Steve to get better, and after a moment of intense scrutinizing her shoulders relaxed and she let out a sigh. “It will take time until he is well again.”

“So long as he gets better he can take all the time he needs,” Bucky muttered. He was standing stiffly at Steve’s bedside, intentionally or unintentionally as far away from Tony as possible in the small room, and staring down at his best friend with a worried frown. “I hate seeing him like this.”

For the first time in years Tony looked at Bucky – really looked at him. What he saw wasn’t a murderer, as hard as it was to admit that even to himself. All he saw was a broken man, out of time, who had been dealt a shitty hand at life so far and worked his ass off to find his place in a world that wasn’t his and tried to atone for things he’d had no control over.

_A lot like Steve when you broke it down_ , Tony thought despite the separate roads Steve and Bucky had been forced to walk. Tony knew the likelihood of him and Bucky becoming best buddies in the future were slim at best after all that had happened between them, some of it long before they’d ever crossed paths, but there was one good thing that would always connect them and that was Steve.

They both cared about him and it was obvious that Steve considered them his closest friends, so Tony was willing to at least try to get on better terms with Bucky for Steve’s sake. “I know it doesn’t seem like it but he is getting better,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

For a moment all Bucky did was stare at him. Looking into those eyes, no longer detached and dead but alive and full of love and worry for his childhood friend who beat all the odds again and again no matter what life threw at him Tony felt something like understanding passing between them, quiet and unnoticed by everyone else in the room. The past wasn’t important anymore. It had happened and it hurt but it no longer had to stand between them – not if they didn’t let it.

When Bucky gave him a curt nod, a gesture that said _I trust you on this_ and _Don’t make me regret it_ Tony made a silent promise: _I will never lie to you about him._

The three Avengers stayed a little longer but Steve slept on and in the end duty called and they had to leave once more with disappointment edged onto their faces. It wasn’t Steve’s fault, of course, and if they really wanted they could’ve woken him up with a gentle hand on the arm but none of them had the heart to do that, especially not after Wanda’s words. So they let him rest and left with hanging shoulders, promising Tony they’d be back as soon as possible.

When the door clicked shut behind them Tony let out a sigh. That went better than he’d expected. He probably needed to sit down with Bucky to talk about the Winter Soldier and Siberia and everything in-between, and sooner rather than later, but for now he was content that they had taken a first step in the right direction, even if it was only a baby step. Steve would be proud of him, he thought. Of both him and Bucky.

What Tony was ultimately aiming for, however, wasn’t Steve’s praise. He wanted to make Steve happy. Genuinely, honestly happy, and he knew nothing would make Steve happier than having the two people he cared most about in the world getting along. Steve had been torn in two for far too long already, having been forced to choose one friend over another – an impossible choice he’d paid the price for for years only to lose them both in the end, albeit in different ways, and the pain of it all could be seen in every guarded expression, every tight smile he shared, and every held-back word.

Tony wanted to change that and for that he needed Bucky. They all had been granted a second chance here and Tony didn’t want to screw his up. He had a feeling Bucky and he were on the same page in regards to that.

_Second chances_ , Tony mused two days later when he was staring through the open door into the room he shared with Steve. He’d just come back from a round of physiotherapy and tests and, not expecting Steve to be awake, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw him sitting up in bed with Morgan perched at his side.

It was a scene he’d pictured, sometimes – in the dead of night when regrets and memories of kind smiles and brilliant blue eyes were hard to banish. He’d wondered how different his life would be if Steve had been in it. Would Morgan love him? Would Steve be her favorite uncle, the one who spoilt her rotten and treated her like a princess? Would she spend hours at Steve’s side, both quietly drawing the scenery of the lake, with Tony and Pepper smiling at them from a distance?

He’d imagined all that and so much more. Seeing his daughter alone with Steve now, her eyes bright and happy and Steve’s still sleepy and a little confused but so attentive made a lump form in Tony’s throat. God, they had all been missing out on so much because of his stubbornness and inability to let go and forgive.

“You’re back,” Pepper said quietly, coming up behind him and pulling him out of his thoughts. Following his gaze, she added, “She rushed in before I could stop her.”

Tony looked at her over his shoulder. “Was he awake when she ran in?” The last thing he wanted was for Steve to wake up alone, not knowing where Tony was. He really needed to remember to leave a note for Steve the next time he had an appointment, especially if his sleeping habits began to return to normal.

Pepper stepped up next to him and to Tony’s relief she shook her head. “He woke up when Morgan banged the door against the wall. I wonder where she gets that flair for the dramatic from ...”

Tony chuckled. “I have absolutely no idea.”

In the room Morgan was telling Steve excitedly about the latest picture she’d drawn. “That here,” she said, pointing to a blue blob, “is you! With the shield Daddy kept in the garage. Daddy is this one, by the way. See, he’s all red and gold. And next to him is Mommy and see this one? That’s Uncle Rhodey! Daddy made them suits as well! I don’t have one yet but Daddy’s going to build me one one day and I want it to be blue, like your suit, and full of stars!”

Tony was acutely aware of Pepper’s eyes on him. “I never told her I’d built her a suit, Pep. I swear.”

Pepper sighed and Tony didn’t have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes. “You didn’t have to. She’s a Stark through and through.”

Tony’s eyes met hers. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Just ask my poor nerves,” Pepper said.  But then she smiled quietly, fondly. “I wouldn’t change it for the world, though.”

Her hand found Tony’s and Tony brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss full of promise and love to her knuckles. “Good to know.”

“Anyway,” Morgan went on, making them both turn back to the room. “Next to Uncle Rhodey is Uncle Happy. Do you know him?” she asked. Without waiting for Steve’s reply she went on, “He’s called Happy but he isn’t always happy. He can be quite grumpy sometimes, like that one dwarf from Snow-White. But he’s funny and we sometimes have adventures together. I like Happy.”

Tony chuckled. His daughter was a force to be reckoned with once she started talking about something she was passionate about which currently meant drawing, the fish in the lake at home and Steve. Steve, to his credit, gave her his complete attention despite the drowsiness Tony knew he must be feeling. The look on his face, concentrated yet a little lost, reminded Tony of late nights in the workshop, a lifetime ago, when Tony would go on and on about the latest design for this or that and Steve did his best to keep up and share Tony’s enthusiasm. Steve had never looked bored – confused sometimes, yes, and tired, but never bored. Tony missed those times. He wished he’d spend more time with Steve back then when their world still had been more or less all right.

_Probably less in Steve’s case_ , he thought with a sympathetic pang in his chest, because Steve might not always have looked lost or confused but that didn’t change the fact that he had felt that way often enough ever since he came out of the ice. Tony had heard the proof of that on the battlefield when he’d had Steve’s thoughts in his head, and he wondered why no one in all the years, not he himself, the Avengers or the people at S.H.I.E.L.D., had ever bothered to ask Steve how he was doing, if he was all right and how he felt about having his life, his time, his whole world torn away from him. Because that’s exactly what had happened to Steve: he’d lost _everything_ and that was something none of them could even begin to imagine, not even after having to live in a broken world for five years.

Pepper’s gentle hand on his arm brought him back to the present. In the hospital room, Morgan’s little hand pointed to the left side of the drawing. “And see here?” she asked Steve. “That one’s Bucky! I even drew his metal arm. Look!”

Steve’s eyes followed her movement. He blinked and Tony knew him well enough by now to recognize the tell-tale signs of him getting upset about something. He tensed and Pepper’s hand on his arm was the only thing stopping him from stepping into the room.

“How do you know Bucky?” Steve asked quietly, unable to tear his gaze away from what Tony assumed was a black stick figure with a silver metal arm.

Morgan frowned up at Steve in confusion. “He’s your friend, isn’t he? He visits you like Mommy and I do but you’re always asleep when we’re here.”

“Bucky was _here_?” Steve whispered, sounding surprised and shocked. The hope in his voice was almost painful to listen to.

Pepper’s hand tightened on Tony’s arm until he felt her fingernails digging into his skin. “You didn’t tell him?” she whispered.

Tony winced. “I did – right after Bucky’s first visit.” He went back to all the times Bucky and the others had come by, back to the nights and conversations with Steve that followed. It was true, he had told Steve all about the day Bucky first came by to make sure his best friend was all right. He remembered how relieved Steve had been to hear that Bucky was alive and well. The other nights … All Tony could remember were phrases like “The team came by again today” and “You had some visitors this morning”. No mention of Bucky or any other names.

Regret pooled in Tony’s stomach like lava as he realized his mistake. ”I … I thought we were past the memory loss. I thought he would remember. Shit, Pep, I think I screwed up.”

Pepper’s eyes softened. “Oh, Tony. It’s not your fault.”

“It kind of feels like it, though,” Tony sighed. He turned to her. “Can you call Bucky? See if he can make it here on short-notice? I think Steve needs to see him right now.”

Pepper nodded. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

“Uncle Steve?” Tony heard Morgan ask from the room, sounding unsure. “Are you all right? Daddy says you have to sleep a lot because you’re hurt and you need to get better. Do you need to sleep now? I’m sorry that I woke you up. I can leave if you want?”

Steve, brave, stubborn and selfless Steve, reigned in his emotions and gave her a strained but honest smile. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I’m fine. Please stay. It’s just … I haven’t seen my friend in a long time and I didn’t know … I wasn’t sure he was all right.” His eyes fell to the sheet of paper lying on top of the blanket. “I’m glad he is. You captured him – and everyone else – incredibly well. It’s a beautiful picture you have drawn there.”

Morgan beamed with happiness and pride and Tony wished he could be so sincere when he praised her stick figure drawings. He always felt like he was humoring her but Steve? Steve sounded like he meant every word and saw potential for more, and Morgan soaked up his words like a flower relished water after a long drought.

“I spent _a lot_ of hours on it and I did it all on my own,” she said with pride. Then, a little more shyly, she added, “Would you like to have it?”

“What?” Steve asked, sounding surprised.

Morgan smiled at him and the look on her face reminded Tony so much of Pepper his chest tightened. “You can keep it – so the next time you wake up and miss your friends we’re all right here,” she said, pointing at the picture. “See?”

Even from a few feet away Tony could see Steve’s eyes misting over. Steve swallowed hard and looked more than a little lost as he stared at the drawing. This time, without Pepper holding him back, Tony did step into the room. “Knock knock,” he announced his presence with a grin. “If it isn’t two of my favorite people in the whole universe.”

“Daddy!” Morgan exclaimed at once and jumped off the bed to rush into his arms, drawing momentarily forgotten. Tony caught her with his good arm and twirled her around once. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Steve watching them, a raw look of longing on his face that went straight to Tony’s heart.

“You’re late,” Morgan said in a mildly accusing tone before Tony could think further about the pain in Steve’s eyes. “We were waiting for you,” she added when she pulled back, looking up at him with her big impressive eyes.

“Blame the doctors and their needles,” Tony told her mock-seriously.

Morgan screwed up her face. “I hate needles,” she muttered.

Tony laughed. “You and me both, kiddo. And I bet Steve doesn’t like them either.”

They both turned towards Steve expectantly. His eyes were still soft and but no longer brimming with emotions, Tony noticed. His guard was back up. “You’d be right about that,” Steve said, looking from Tony to Morgan. “But needles actually do a lot of good and we should be grateful we have them to help us get better.”

_Trust Steve to turn mutual commiserating about needles into a life lesson for Morgan_ , Tony couldn’t help but think fondly. Until a few days ago he would have rolled his eyes at this, chalking it up to Steve and his holier-than-thou-attitude. Now he looked beyond the words, looked back in time to an era when medicine wasn’t as advanced as it was today and the pinprick of a needle and the lives it saved weren’t yet taken for granted or questioned. Sometimes it was too easy to forget that for Steve the past wasn’t just an abstract concept one read about in history books (or on the internet, nowadays). Steve had lived it, he remembered it – and it gave him an appreciation for modern medicine most people, Tony included, often lacked. It made Tony want to try to complain less the next time the doctors and nurses used him as a guinea pig, but it didn’t stop him from saying, “The pain still sucks.”

Morgan nodded in solemn agreement and Steve chuckled. “Fair enough.” He paused, eyes dropping to Tony’s arm. “You okay?”

_I should be the one asking you that_ , Tony thought. “Apart from feeling like a pincushion, yes. The skin transplants have worked nicely so far. You?”

He held Steve’s gaze, letting him know that despite the joking he was serious about the question. Steve didn’t answer. Instead his gaze shifted to the drawing. “Look what Morgan made.”

He was aware Steve was deflecting, probably because he wondered why Tony hadn’t told him about Bucky. For the moment, Tony let him. He stepped closer to the bed and sat in the spot Morgan had vacated. After he pulled her up and onto his lap he regarded the picture Steve held up for him to see.

“Very impressive,” Tony said, turning towards Morgan. “And well done with the colors. I see you finally found the right blue for Captain America.”

Morgan’s face lit up. “Princess Shuri had the perfect one for me! She’s a real princess, Daddy, and so cool!”

“She is _very_ cool,” Tony agreed. For Steve’s sake he added, “Morgan has been on a mission to find a blue that matched your uniform color for two days now.”

“Ah,” Steve made.

Something dark passed over his face and was gone in the blink of an eye. He looked away and Tony frowned. Turning towards his daughter he asked, “Morgan, sweetie? Could you go to Mommy and see what’s taking her so long?”

“Sure!” Morgan said, scrambling off his lap and racing out the door. “Mommy!” she shouted loud enough for half the hospital to hear her.

Tony didn’t care, though. He looked back at Steve, not wasting any time. “All right, what’s the matter? And don’t even try bullshitting me. I saw that look on your face when I mentioned the uniform.”

Steve stared at the picture though Tony got the impression he wasn’t really seeing it. “She needn’t have bothered with getting the color right. I’m not Captain America anymore.”

For a moment all Tony could do was blink at him. “You will always be Captain America,” he said firmly. “Do you hear me, Steve? _Always_ , even if you never wear the uniform again. Even if you lay down the shield forever or pass it on. You will always be a hero.”

“I haven’t been a hero for a long time, Tony,” Steve muttered, glancing up with guilt written all over his face. “You of all people should know that. Maybe I never was one in the first place.”

Tony shook his head, completely baffled. “That’s not true. Actually, that’s so far from the truth it’s ridiculous. See that little girl out there?” he asked, pointing behind him at the hallway where Morgan was tugging impatiently at the hem of Pepper’s shirt. “You’re her hero, Steve. Not her Daddy or her Mommy or anyone else in that picture. You. Because you saved her Daddy’s life and that’s enough for her.” On impulse he reached out and placed his hand on top of Steve’s wrist. “It should be enough for anyone – saving a life, no matter whose. And you saved millions, Steve. Millions. Half a universe.”

Steve’s eyes met Tony’s. “We did that together.”

Tony smiled. “We did. And Morgan knows that. But she doesn’t care that her Daddy helped save the world. All she cares about is the man who made sure her Daddy made it home. And yeah, she drew you as Captain America. But it’s Uncle Steve she’s talking about all the time.” He cleared his throat and raised his voice a few bars to imitate his daughter’s. “ _Daddy, when is he going to wake up?_ _When can I show him my drawing? When can we all go to the lake and watch the fish?_ ” Tony let his voice drop to its normal level. “She keeps going on about you all the time, Steve. She might have drawn you in your uniform but it’s not Captain America she wants. It’s _you_.” When Steve still didn’t look convinced Tony gave his wrist a squeeze. “It’s not about the serum, Steve. You never needed that to be a hero. And if you want to stay in the superhero business so badly I’ll built you a suit the moment I’ll get out of here. Promise. Star-spangled and all. We could even call you Captain Iron!”

This, finally, drew a wet chuckle from Steve. “God, please no. That sounds awful.”

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know it sounds absolutely awesome,” Tony insisted. “You just have no taste.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” a voice said from the door. “I think Steve’s right. Captain Iron is a bit too much. Now, Iron Soldier on the other hand …”

Steve’s jaw fell open and Tony felt him tense beneath his hand. “Bucky?” he breathed, voice breaking on the last syllable.

“Hey, Stevie.”

Tony could hear the smile in Bucky’s voice as he stepped into the room, but it was Steve’s face he watched. It lit up in quiet disbelief and wonder and a myriad of emotions flickered in his eyes too fast for Tony to catch. Behind Bucky, Pepper walked in with Morgan holding her hand and skipping along happily. Tony had no idea how she had managed to get Bucky from America to Wakanda on such short notice (he expected he owed Dr. Strange a couple of favors for this) but seeing Steve’s reaction made it all worth it. He positively glowed with happiness and relief as his eyes took in every inch of Bucky as if committing him to memory.

As if he expected Bucky to vanish again.

That look was painfully familiar. It was the same way Steve looked at Tony each time he opened his eyes, as if he couldn’t quite believe Tony was still here, in this room, with him.

“You’re here,” Steve whispered, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s, proving Tony’s thoughts true.

Bucky’s face softened and he stepped up to the bed. “Of course I am. Someone’s got to keep you out of trouble.”

Steve’s lips pulled up into a trembling smile. “Don’t you mean someone’s got to keep _you_ out of trouble?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Come here, you punk,” he muttered before pulling Steve into a hug. Tony’s hand fell away from Steve’s wrist as Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, holding him with all his might despite the pain it must cause him. He buried his face in Bucky’s shoulder and even though he didn’t make a sound his shoulders were shaking and Tony didn’t doubt for a moment that he was crying tears worth of years of grief into Bucky’s shirt.

Bucky, for his part, held Steve as if he was fragile and something precious. He kept stroking his back and murmured reassuring words into Steve’s ear that Tony didn’t catch. Their eyes met over Steve’s shoulder and Bucky’s were so full of gratitude Tony could do nothing but nod in return.

When Steve pulled back his eyes were red but he was smiling. He looked younger – or as young as he truly was – with another huge worry lifted off of his chest. To Tony’s surprise Steve turned to him and Pepper. “Thank you,” he said. His voice was a little rough but the words were heartfelt. “Thank you both so much.”

“You’re welcome, Steve,” Pepper smiled.

Tony nodded in agreement. “What she said.” He pushed himself off of the bed. “We’ll give you two some space to catch up.”

To everyone’s surprise Steve reached out to stop him. “Wait,” he said, casting an uneasy look between Tony and Bucky. “I know you two don’t like each other but … you could stay, if you’d like?”

His voice was small, unsure, but the hope in his eyes spoke volumes. He didn’t want Tony to leave and Tony’s chest swelled with affection. He shared first a look with Pepper and then with Bucky who gave him nod that said it was all right. Tony sat back down on the edge of the bed. “Sure, Steve.”

The tension drained out of Steve and he sank back into his pillows, exhausted but with a happy smile softening his features, while Pepper and Bucky each pulled up a chair and Morgan climbed back onto Tony’s lap. She reached for the drawing, holding it up to show it to Bucky, and began filling the silence with her excited chatter. Tony watched her fondly and he smiled when he felt Pepper’s hand on the small of his back, warm and grounding and reassuringly familiar. He noticed Bucky reaching for Steve’s hand as they listened to Morgan recounting her quest for the perfect Captain America blue, and Tony wasn’t the least bit surprised when Steve’s other hand came to rest on his ankle. This was what Steve had always wanted: his friends, his family, close by and safe.

It didn’t take long until the exhaustion caught up with Steve and despite his efforts to stay awake he finally fell asleep to the soundtrack of Morgan’s voice and Bucky’s quiet replies, his heart monitor beating steadily in the background. He looked peaceful and when Tony glanced over at Bucky he saw a small, soft smile on his face as he leaned back in his chair, relaxed.

Tony shared a fond look with Pepper when Morgan began to tell Bucky all about their house by the lake and all the animals she’d seen so far in the woods. For the first time in a long while he allowed himself to believe that everything would be all right, and he found himself thinking, _I could get used to this_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since most of you wanted to see more of this story I decided to write another chapter. It took four weeks but here it finally is. I really hope it makes up for the long wait. 
> 
> I don't know how many more chapters will come after this. I have a few ideas of where to take the story and where to end it, but who knows how much else I will come up with during the writing process. Right now I'm planning on two more chapters. 
> 
> If there's anything you'd like to see in this story, please don't hesitate and tell me in the comments and I'll see if I can work it in. Again, thank you so much for your support and your encouraging words in the comment section! It really means the world to me and I'm so happy you enjoy my writing!


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